The Grand Arena: A Path of Exile Novel (Ongoing)
by Augustrad
Summary: A Duelist of Oriath is exiled to the forsaken continent. Only death awaits those who dare to test the trials of Wraeclast.
1. Chapter 1: Twilight Strand

A fan-fiction of one of my favorite games. Just another aspiring author wasting time on stuff like this instead of being productive. I would love to have a beta reader for future chapters, feedback is much appreciated.

 **Chapter 1: Twilight Strand**

A raging storm beat against the beachhead without remorse. Flashes of thunder struck the ground as if thrown by the gods themselves. The rocky cliffs stood on overwatch from above. As the waves crashed onto the beach, sand became thick mud from drenching rain. Wraeclast, land of the cursed and damned. A land where if one was willing and had an open mind, a new life awaited that lucky individual. If luck ran out, however...well, it was best not to linger.

A rugged hand clasped the ground as fingers dug in deep for traction. Pair of weary eyes struggled to open, almost failing to do so. The entire body battered and bruised, mementos from a prior life and decisions that brought about the current situation. Through ache and pain a man stood with clothes soaked to the bone. There were no provisions of any kind given to him other than one, a short rusty sword. It lay partially covered in the sand near him. How thoughtful they were, his exilers. With a sword with no food or additional clothing, the future truly rested in his skillful hands alone.

The new life of Darius Stryer was going to be quite different than what he was used to. The bustling streets of Oriath with it's beautiful women and the Grand Arena of Theopolis were nothing but a memory now. The loud cheers and red flowers but ashes to a flame. He laughed as water ran down his face.

"Hey...you there...the one still alive and kicking."

Stryer turned to face the new voice, squinting his eyes to see through the rain and darkness. It came from a man leaning against a broken tree trunk, his form looked weak and fragile. Upon closer inspection, a rather sharp branch of the trunk pierced through his chest and barely missed the heart. The man was lucky to be alive as he was though probably not for much longer.

"Come closer, please….while I can….still breathe."

This being the storied land it was meant one would dare not stray far from caution. A land was given a name and title for a reason after all. However, the wounded man was helpless in his current state. Why not give in to charity at least once before he probably died on this wretched continent. Though, he better be careful with that line of thinking down the road.

Against safer judgement this one time, he slowly encroached towards the other survivor calling him over. Closing the distance, the wound was more severe than he originally thought. It was hard to tell at first as flashes of lightning was the only main source of light.

"Pipe down man, you don't know who else is watching."

"Ha ha, it's not who...it's more...of what, honestly." His breathing became heavier and more erratic. "This is Wraeclast...home to creatures...of your darkest nightmares."

"Children stories and nothing more. You need to rest with your injury."

"Believe what you want….but further up the coast, I saw smoke….smoke rising into the sky." The man coughed up some blood. "I'm beyond moving, but maybe you...can get some help and….survive."

Stryer did not move while watching the dying man say his last words. The spark of life slowly left his eyes, the body slumped against the broken trunk. Once again, Stryer was alone in the middle of another storm.

"May your soul find peace and the trumpets blare one final time." Stryer paid his respect to the fallen. "Now it's time to find my own path."

Looking down the beachhead, the smoke and fire could faintly be seen in the distance. A long trek into the dark and crackling night. Broken crates and boxes, dilapidated wooden structures, and sand and rocks as far as the eye could see under the flashes of light. He was beginning to like his new predicament in an odd way. This Wraeclast, it presented an ominous aura about itself. Try all he might, his blood boiled with eagerness and curiosity upon this land.

Who was the cursed one? Wraeclast, or him?

With all the energy he could muster, Stryer began his soaked journey down the beachhead. There was not much of it left but still enough. His feet sunk deep into the muddy sand slowing his progress while the occasional rock scrapped his bare skin. Vision afar remained as clear as muddled water at best.

Coming across a broken piece of a shipwreck, he took a moment of rest under the slightly curving wood which more than likely was the ship's hull. It was not much but a momentary relief from nature nonetheless. Sword still in hand, he examined it over more thoroughly. A little battered and rusty than he would like but still serviceable. Then movement caught the corner of his eye.

It was slow and unsteady as if made aimlessly without purpose. The lightning flashed to reveal nothing, but his ears heard. It sounded unnatural, the gurgling and groaning of a dying man. Not man, creature maybe. Alas, it was not getting softer but only louder. A dying creature gaining strength? No, it was dying for certain. Stryer recalled the words of the other he met earlier.

' _Wraeclast….home of your darkest nightmares.'_

Surely he jest? Of course, delusional in his dying moments. The source of this groaning must be a strange creature of the land and a reason why such twisted stories made it to Oriath. Curses were for child's play and scaring them from doing wrong. This land was no more cursed than his opponents in the arena back home.

The groaning was now accompanied by a shuffle of feet and still headed his direction. This was his moment to strike. The creature was coming around the backside of the hull, favoring its right leg each stride. So the creature had a limp. Was it already injured? It would explain the groaning...which sounding too close to human for comfort. Either way, he readied his blade for a quick strike and close combat. The creature turned the corner and lightning flashed again to reveal its features.

Horror. That was the first emotion that ran through Stryer's mind. The creature was human, mostly. It stood tall as one say less a slight hunch in it's back. Its skin and face also looked human except for one common factor. The creature was….rotting? Sagging and decrepit skin that looked to have even fallen off in places. Before anymore information could be taken, the creature lunged forward with both arms outward.

Stryer jumped backwards to safety. This creature, or human….or it, was not fast or agile at all. Muscles still retained strength but the instant command was not there. It was better to ask questions later in a scenario like this one. He charged forward at the humanoid creature aiming for a fatal blow. One strike across the throat ended up decapitating it altogether. The body fell to the ground, dead for good.

"Can it really be? The stories….the silent whispers."

He stood there, observing the corpse of his fallen victim. Human, at one point, yes. However, there was no denying what lay before him. Wraeclast may hold more truth to itself than he originally gave credit.


	2. Chapter 2: Giant of the Strand

Chapter 2: Giant of the Strand

Upon closer inspection of the body, Stryer was right in one assessment. This thing was already injured from prior conflicts. There were marks at its throat from other than his blade while scratches and weapon induced nicks were scattered from head to toe. His new friend had some rough encounters before this meeting, but this was the last.

"So the undead do exist, at least in this land."

His eyes scanned the horizon for any additional surprises. There was nothing. Taking stock of the dead body one last time, he was lucky to encounter an already hampered undead. If this was just an appetizer of what Wraeclast had to show, then he was in for quite the adventure. Sword in hand, Stryer sallied forth along the beach.

He came across a few more of these 'drowned dead'. Naming them such that their skin looked soaked to the bone, literally. Additionally, there was an encounter with a more familiar creature. A large crab called a sand spitter. Though, here they seemed to be different than back home. For one, there were a few more eyes than normal. Also, their manners and instincts felt tainted in an indescribable way.

Quick feet and fast hands made short work of them. So far, progress was steadily being made and a walled structure came into clearer view, a few torches lit on the ramparts. Salvation was just around the corner assuming it was inhabited. Hopefully the 'undead' had not overran whoever constructed it.

One positive going his way was the items left behind by others before they most likely death. Either buried in sand or lost within the beach debris, Stryer found a rusty axe and some iron greaves. Not much but still a better start than he envisioned. Thinking about it, he was probably better off than most exiles that made it to the beach alive.

At least he thought so until a loud roar dampened that idea and temporarily stopped him in his tracks. It was sounded almost human just like the groaning before. A large enough rock to provide cover was just ahead, and also a larger wooden wall lined with a couple of torches. The settlement once way off in the distance was less than a hundred yards his front and center. Unfortunately, something else also moved into his field of view.

A tall and muscular being of what used to be a giant of a man. The creature slowly shuffled his way across the sand, a few of the mutated crabs scattered to the ocean. This undead thing was without doubt the undisputed king of the beach. It would be an arduous task for certain, but the only way inside the safety of the walls was through it.

With no other recourse, Stryer attempted moved to a more advantageous position. Unfortunate, he did not watch his footing and knocked a piece of rusted metal aside a broken crate. The metal of the object and the metal of his greaves collided. Of course, now the weather decided to soften enough for the sound to ring out over the rain. The giant undead man turned in his direction.

"Crap!"

Gripping sword and axe tightly, Stryer decided to charge towards this thing. There was not enough debris to offer cover to something of his size and inherent strength. With nowhere to retreat to, there was only forward.

"Let's see how tough you truly are."

Stryer went in low and aimed a hearty swing of his axe at the knee. In response, the creature cared less about dodging and more about smashing his face in. As his axe lodged itself into the knee, its large hand balled into a fist and sped towards his direction. He sidestepped out of the way though not fast enough to avoid the shockwave from impact.

Stryer lost his grip on the axe and stumbled to the ground. Next thing he knew, its other fist came into his field of view. The creature moved deceptively fast for its size. With only seconds to spare, sand flew in all directions as he rolled to the side. The safety of the walls was so close only to have the situation get worse.

The creature grasped the hilt of a large longsword stuck into his chest and pulled it out. It showed no acknowledgement of the deed, no flinching or grunts of pain. Instead it took the sword on one hand and swung at Stryer with all its strength. The sharpened metal whistled through the air as it swung left and right in an uncoordinated fashion befit of its current state.

There are times when skill and hard work pay off. Then there are times where the dumbest of luck wins out over everything else, and this was one of those times. The creature swung ferociously and wildly. It swung such that its blade impacted what looked to once be a palisade. The blade stuck, even the creature struggled to break it free.

"Lady luck favors me it seems." Stryer adjusted the rusty blade in hand. "Let's cut you down to size."

He dashed forward and aimed to stab the already axe stuck knee. The rusty blade impaled deeply into the joint, the creature howled in pain and gave up hope of freeing his sword. The giant crashed to the ground on both knees. An opportune moment presented itself before him.

Stryer had pulled his sword before the creature collapsed and now sought its head. From underneath, he punctured the skin under the jaw and into its skull. It gasped for air as if human once more then leaned backwards limply, the body remaining in a kneeling position. It was creepy if nothing else.

"Hmph, even the risen dead cannot hope to challenge me." Luck or skill, there was a tone of nervous arrogance. "Though I may need to find a new weapon."

Stryer noted how deeply rooted his rusty blade was into the skull, irregardless of the fact he would have to climb the dead, or deader, body to claim it. Some things were definitely not worth the effort. He took a moment to observe his surroundings in the aftermath.

The waves continued their assault onto the beachhead unimpeded. The thunderstorm could have cared less about this creatures death as the rain pelted his face. Lastly, there was the faint sound of a voice piercing through the storms veil. Maybe the inhabitants had taken note of his victory? But then why were they words of warning?

Instinct took over before comprehension. He dodged a two handed blow that shook the ground where he once stood. Looking for the source, the dead did not want to stay dead here. The creature gurgled as roar due to the still obstructive sword. What happened next changed any plan he might have formed.

A ball of fire sped towards the creature. No, not a ball but more like an arrow's flight. It had purpose and direction, and accuracy, which resulted in a square hit upon the back of the head. It was forced forward on both hands as another burning arrow took flight and hit the mark. Stryer was stuck between confusion, wonder, and sheer impression of this archers skill. He would have stayed in that state if not for another voice louder than the first to break his trance.

"Dead man! I'd recommend running this way, now!"

When in Wraeclast, it is more often than not advantageous to heed the warnings and commands of the locals. At least that is applicable to those who are not cannibals. So what other choice did he have, Stryer ran.


	3. Chapter 3: Lioneye's Watch

Chapter 3: Lioneye's Watch

"Say that again?" Stryer heard but did not fully understand. "The hell are Vaal Gems?"

"Irrelevant is what they are or why they came to be, the importance is how they work." The short haired blonde woman sighed in exasperation. "I wanted to take that thing down for good but arrows are a limited resource here."

"Then why waste them at all?" Her eyes were familiar, cold as death itself. "Surely a washed up exile is not worth jeopardizing your defenses?"

The icy nature betrayed her. She was a cultivated killer, a product of a harsh environment. "I'll put this as simply as I can for you duelist. This is Wraeclast, forget what you thought you knew." She jabbed him with a callused finger. "This land wants you dead and it will have its way in the end, against your will or not."

"So I've heard the stories. Then why did you save me?"

"There is no room for the weak of spirit or flesh in this new and cruel reality." The ice partially melted and revealed another layer underneath, if only for a few moments. "You wounded Hillock and pretty badly. That means you show promise. Promise leads to hope which us something we can all use."

Alyssa, the name she gave anyway, was an exile just like him. A ranger back in Oriath and pretty damn good one. Unfortunately her skill got her into trouble, a kind not easily gotten out of. She was charged with poaching an animal that belonged to the nobles. At first the accusing noble attempted to work a compromise she did not want to describe. Stryer had a good idea of what it was, and honestly could not fault the human nature if males.

Needless to say, the noble backed out in the deal once he got what he wanted. Typical arrogant highborn bastard. Thus her fate was sealed, and she was put on the next boat out with all the other exiles. Such was the divine wisdom of the Templar Order.

Alyssa finished her explanations and walked over to talk with another man, the same man who had dragged him inside the wall when Hillock was distracted. The cozy little fortress was called Lioneye's Watch. It was a true fortress at one time many years ago. Now wooden palisades and makeshift repairs filled the gaps of the crumbling walls. The inhabitants did not help alleviate the overall depressing mood of the place.

"I guess I should start somewhere." Stryer mumbled.

In one corner of the encampment near a roaring fireplace was a blonde woman tending to the wounded with various herbs. Her clothes were scavenged, worn, minimal, and not to mention damp from the rain. A simply wrapping covered her chest while a long skirt of different colored materials were combined together to hide her legs.

"Excuse me, my lady." If she was not so covered in grime, Stryer might have to resist his urges more carefully. There was still an undertone of beauty in her appearance. "I'm sorry to cause any trouble with that thing, Hillock, I mean."

"Hillock? So you are the new source of my worry?" Her face softened into the warmth of a caring mother as she stepped closer to him. "Don't apologise for anything."

"Your worry?"

"Yes, I heal the sick and wounded as best I can. Though I hardly can call it that in truth, as there's only so much I can do with herbs and seawater." Her eyes looked him over a few more times. "I'm Nessa. Your's is a face I never expected to see here. The maidens of Oriath must lie wailing in their beds now that their mighty duelist has left them."

"I can safely say a few of them will surely miss me." Stryer half attempted to strike a pose. "So you followed fighters of the arena?"

"Yes, but not out of love or admiration. Back in Oriath I disdained your kind. In Wraeclast, I don't have that luxury."

"I appreciate your honesty and I'll try not to get in the way." Pride took an arrow head on. "Who can I talk to about a weapon and maybe some food?"

"Go to Tarkleigh, the man with the bandage over his eye. He'll sort out a weapon for you." She pointed him out next to a strung up rhoa, a giant two legged bird and a deadly beak. "As far as food, stick around and I'll cook up something for you."

"Thank you again, Nessa. If I can help-."

"No, you've done enough for now." The firm but caring mother tone returned. "I'd rather not have Hillock at the gates."

Stryer took her advice and headed over to Tarkleigh. He and Alyssa were still in mid-conversation when Stryer walked up.

"And what we have here?" Alyssa stopped somewhat awkwardly to address him. "Our brave exile who dared to unseat the beach's ruler."

"Ruler? Oh, right." She meant Hillock. "I didn't want to fight him. It was an unfortunate crossing of paths, and it's one I don't care to repeat."

"Whether want or not, you showed a fighting spirit." The man called Tarkleigh joined in. "Normally I'd ask where you learned to fight like that, except Dominus took our past from us. It's just live or die now."

"Yea, I guess he showed something." She smirked. "Not sure what I'd call it just yet."

"To be fair, you never let me finish the fight. Let alone you wasted precious arrows on me."

"To be fair, I potentially saved your life. No, I certainly saved it." The split tongue spit out toxins. "Need I remind you about nearly being flattened into the sand?"

"You've never seen me fight in the arena." Stryer turned defensive. "My capabilities are more than you think."

"I may not have seen YOU fight, but I have seen your kind and their sport. I feel the great Daresso would be disappointed." Her mouth curled into a coy grin. "You're probably more capable with a sword in bed than in the arena."

Anyone who dared to insult him or or his reputation was destined for a fight afterwards. However, he was caught in the middle of Alyssa's words. Did she just compliment his...nevermind, a thought for another day.

"I hate to interrupt your friendly chat, but your food."

Stryer turned to see Nessa with a bowl in hand. Others nearby looked away nervously, as if having listened to every word. He wondered how loud they got towards the end of their exchange. By the looks of it, loud enough.

"Thanks, very much."


	4. Chapter 4: Mercy Mission

Chapter 4: Mercy Mission

Tarkleigh managed to set him up with a few pieces of gear. A mostly intact chainmail vest, an iron hat which looked more like a bucket, and a pair of sturdy copper swords. Stryer tried to argue not to waste valuable supplies, but Tarkleigh insisted there were not enough capable fighters to use it on in the first place. He was fairly accurate with that statement.

"I don't mean to ask too much of you." He sharpened his butcher knife with a whetstone. "But Nessa had asked me to get something. It's unfortunately in an area my injured self would care not to be. But you, you are spry like a wild tiger."

"Where is this place?"

Tarkleigh studied him over. "Do not throw your life away for our sakes. I only ask if you are headed out that way already, nothing more." He paused for an understanding. "Tidal Island we call it. A nasty creature gas taken up residence there."

"Maybe, I'm not keen on dying either."

Stryer left Tarkleigh to his knife and rhoa. What they tasted like he never knew. A few had been brought to the arena and died as everything else did, but that was all he knew. Alyssa caught his eye but immediately went back to fiddling with some leather jerkin, rather in a shabby condition. Stryer moved onto Nessa warming herself near the fire.

"Nessa, I would like to inquire about something."

She looked back surprised from her thoughts as the ever caring face slowly returned. "Yes, what would you like to know?"

"It's about Tidal Island." Her eyes briefly lit up. "Tarkleigh mentioned something about it and you. I can't promise anything, but I'll hear you out."

While he was not one for selfless sacrifice, any knowledge of Wraeclast was important to his survival. Plus there were supplies here in camp that he could use. So exchange a favor for a favor? He could make do with that. As such, Nessa told him about the wreckage and a medicine chest, and Bestel.

Bestel was, how to put, unnervingly enthusiastic at best and a madman at worse. The man wore tattered breeches and no shirt with a tricorne hat on top. He claimed to be a captain once. He also claimed to write poetry, but his last poem begged to differ. Thus with good reason Stryer approached cautiously.

"Ah, there's my dashing duelist." Bestel's eyes glinted. "What spell can I do you with?"

"Against my better judgement, I'm interested in your Merry Gull on Tidal island. Specifically, a medicine chest."

"Doctor Opden's chest you mean? Yea, that's still there alright, or should be anyway." Bestel cackled as if he had told a joke. "I doubt the undead have a need for medicine, do they?"

"No, I suppose not." Stryer knew he'd regret asking the next question. "What happened to the goose doctor?"

"Good? He was called 'Shakey Hands' for a reason." He could barely restrain his laughter this time around. "Opden was lousy with a scalpel and even worse with a saw, but damned if he knew his apothecary. Figure that explains the shaky hands, if you ask me."

"Well, thanks for the information. It was, helpful." It really was not.

"If you want helpful then talk to Tarkleigh, trust me."

Stryer tapped his chainmail vest. "I already did and he gave me this stuff."

"Nah, you need more than that to survive here." The lighthearted humorous man was replaced by an experienced sailor. "This land demands the best and only the best rise to its challenge."

The rain had mostly let up from the night before, leaving a light drizzle and overcast skies. A pack of startled seagulls scattered as soon as Stryer set foot in the sand. Birds would be the least of his worries, so Tarkleigh said. Aggressive crabs and cannibals for starters, then whatever cursed magic that brought to life the water itself.

The land was more inclined here, with sandy terraces near the rocky cliffside. He was advised to hug the water least he feel fire's fury and left it at that. Monsters or magic, this time as round would be different thanks to the odd green jewel. There was an unknown power that resonated within it.

Before leaving, Tarkleigh indeed had something more to spare. Gems, polished with a shine rivaled by no other. He have a brief explanation of what they do. Stryer confirmed he was not the first to be given a gem when asking about arrows of fire. Alyssa had a gem notched in her bow, even Tarkleigh had as red one for personal use. Apparently each gem acted differently based on the weapon type.

Stryer had taken one called Frost Blades and socketed onto the hilt of one of his blades. Instantly the sword felt different but not in weight or balance, rather somehow in essence. He could not wait to test it out as he spun it in hand. Behold, his wish was granted as the first cannibal charged at him. That was the first mistake.

Stryer felt the presence of the gem and thrust his sword forward. The blade hummed with blue energy as his fingers bore a chill, blue frost bolted from the sharp tip towards his opponent. The cannibal stopped and fell over dead as did two others behind him. A residual mark of frost appeared on all of the bodies.

The rest of the cannibals only cared to prove his point. Eventually they balked after enough were slain and left the rest up to Wraeclast, her creative creatures and magic. Red back crabs from small dogs to human size assaulted Stryer. They stood no chance as blades pierced their shells. He might have to drag one to camp on the way back to throw over a fire. If the rhoa had tasted that good, then the crab stood a chance.

"I'm beginning to think that this new arena may suit me after all." Alyssa's comment quickly came to mind. "Despite what others think, I may be on the path to Daresso yet."


	5. Chapter 5: Tidal Island

So a quick note. A video is a video game, of course. Thus there are game mechanics that are purely there for play and don't transition one to one in a narrative format, at least in my opinion. For example, you don't need a gem to know how to swing a weapon in an arc in front of you or use swipe twice at a target like Double Strike. So some things are going to be a bit different but will try to keep them as close to the spirit of the game as I can. Also, flasks are not going to be common. If they are as common as they are in games, then all those sick people in Lioneye's Watch could just drink the stuff and get healthy. More or less that's it, enjoy the next chapter :)

Chapter 5: Tidal Island

Frothy tides rolled up against the sandy peninsula, a small mountain of rock centered in the middle. So far only weeds and sparse dry grass were able to take root. More seagulls roamed the sky and more signs of cannibalism littered the ground, most a disturbing sight. Upper torso' were either strung up on wooden posts or staked to a spear protruding out of their mouth. A hardened sight that it was.

As soon as Stryer crossed the narrow entry, Wraeclast unleashed her spell. Water elementals, magic from the sea, arose and attacked him with their tentacle arms. They slashed at him with a crack of the whip. Dexterity kept him out of trouble as he dodged a few close calls. The Frost Blades were less effective but still enough to overcome the challenge.

"I'm going to have to pace myself." His breathing had gotten heavy. "I'll run myself to death at this rate."

He took a moment to inspect the socketed gem again. Someone, like Tarkleigh, forgot to mention the cost of using this new skill. Alyssa probably ran into the same issue with her fire arrows. Though, imagining her out of breath brought along a couple pleasant thoughts. It was best to stow them away for another time. Stryer continued until he rounded a corner ledge.

"Now that looks promising."

Split open down the middle was the wreckage of what should be the 'Merry Gull'. Crates were pulled out from the inside, potentially desperate scavengers hoping for a good score. One of the many humanly wards may indeed been once a scavenger. A chill ran down both Stryer's arms, then up the neck and face. It was more than a chill as the ground was covered with a light layer of white.

He was unsure of how snow or ice could form with the sun now out in full force. His also now dry clothes reminded him, wet cloth is such a pain to deal with. Swords in hand he approached cautiously. There was an air of danger nearby as if the chilled ground was not warning enough. Ideally, he would prefer to go unnoticed but so much for that.

"Whoa!" Stryer backed away quickly.

A large spear of ice that could easily skewer a human barely missed in doing so. Resetting his feet, eyes darted around for the source. A shirtless cannibal with blood markings on his chest stood ready to tear Stryer's skin off. His shoulders and head were covered in ice. Hailrake, was the name used back in camp. The cannibal screamed an incoherent yell and charged forward with a one handed club. This Hailrake had no coordination but made up for it in aggressiveness, swinging wildly left and right. However, Stryer was a veteran of the arena.

With no need for stealth, he moved with grace and match swing for swing. But this monster called Hailrake was strong. A few deep slashes to the gut and it stood strong if only enraged, the ice almost acting as additional armor. Hailrake backed off, creating distance between the two of them. Another ice spear came his way followed by two more. Stryer dodged all three, each leaving a chilly dent in the wrecked hull behind him. Hailrake charged him again in anger. But instead of swinging a club at his face, Hailrake meant to shoot another ice spear only at close range. Stryer's stance faltered.

Then deja vu struck. Hailrake staggered to the side from another impact, the charred arrow momentarily stuck in him before breaking off. On the rise where Stryer came from stood Alyssa with bow in hand, string pulled taunt and arrow notched. That's twice now he made a note to himself.

Stryer took advantage of the distraction and lunged forward with an icy blade. It pierced and Hailrake fell back. When it tried to fire another ice spear, Alyssa released another arrow. Hailrake was dazed and Guard down, thus Stryer charged a final time. Both blades dug into Hailrake's chest and heart. A few fleeting beats before death overcame and the body collapsed to the ground.

Stryer did not realize how long he had held his breath, now exhaling in relief. "No chance of returning to life like Hillock?"

"No, least not likely." Alyssa relaxed her stance as she passed by. "I'd still rather not stay here longer than needed. You okay?"

"A little short of breath, nothing more." He sheathed the swords in makeshift loops around his waist. "You've come to steal my glory?"

"Glory? Oh Duelist, don't assume I am one like you."

Alyssa wandered to the pulled out cargo of the shipwreck. There was a larger and sturdier crate that had suffered less damage than the others, a busted lock hung on the front. She yanked the top open with a satisfying smile.

"I take it the medicine is in there?"

"Yes, it is." Alyssa pulled the medicine chest out. "I came to make sure the people of Lioneye's Watch could survive the night. I'm still not settled on you yet, so keep proving me wrong."

Stryer turned away in distaste. "Don't assume too much of me as I occasionally surprise people."

"You might, but medicine first."

 _Lioneye's Watch_

"A medicine chest! This means more to us than you can know, you give us hope!" Nessa's filled with glee for the first time since Stryer set foot inside the camp. "I think my opinion of your kind has actually changed for the better, thank you. We're just as grateful to you too, Alyssa."

"It was nothing, honestly." Stryer waived off the praise.

"Only because I was there to save your ass."

"Hey, that's not…" He replayed the scenario in his head. "Not entirely true."

"I saw those legs lock up when you almost got a face full of ice. You can't lie from me, try as you might."

Maybe it was the fact that she did save his life or maybe something else, but he was beginning to like her a lot more as of late. If nothing else, reliable friends were of high value in the twisted land of Wraeclast.

Nessa was turning out to be reliable also. She gave them both a flask, but somewhat different. A normal flask was a normal flask. These flasks, they were what she called 'Quicksilver'. Tarkleigh had one he used when hunting in the Mud Flats farther down the coast. Filled with regular water, the flask will imbue it with magical properties. This one in particular was like salt under the nose. Stryer had heard of some people back in Oriath in possession of such things but wrote it off. Wraeclast, however, made it a point to never cease to inspire.


	6. Chapter 6: A Dirty Job

Chapter 6: A Dirty Job

The Quicksilver flask gave him surprising speed. He was not invincible nor unhittable, but he was able to dodge and move fast enough to avoid the worst hits. Additionally, he had raised a broken Oriathan crate to find two more flasks. They looked like simple vials with the insignia of Innocence on one side. But toys of the Templar, as Wraeclast kept on proving, were more than what they seemed.

By its markings one vial was a mana flask, able to replenish ones vigor and then some. The other was a life flask, capable to heal deep wounds and stop death's grasp. He had forgotten to ask if Nessa had any spare. Though considering the state of some her patients, this crate must have recently washed ashore. Any surplus would be good to return her favor. And then there was one more thing, though not really a thing.

"Duelist, are you going to admire yourself all day or what?"

Alyssa pulled an unbroken arrow out of a dead zombie. Her flaming arrows had supplemented his frozen blades nicely as they cleared the amid Flats, nasty Rhoas and all. One particular Rhoa gave them a bit of trouble. It stood out from the rest with its slimy green skin, as if oozing poison from every pore.

"I'm just taking stock. Unlike you, I'm not use to this environment quite yet."

"I've noticed." She pulled out a mana flask of her own. "However, keep in mind that we have a task to do. I hate to idle in these lands."

"Yea, I remember." Stryer stowed the vials on his belt. "Stop a necromancer from raising an army of undead, got it."

Alyssa rested against an exposed root of a nearby tree. "You're confident."

Confidence was a fickle thing. It could come and go at the snap of a finger, and then be replaced by false bravado in a heartbeat. And after all that, be torn asunder by the faintest of blows. Stryer had more anxiety than confidence.

"It's more of getting it over with than prolonging the inevitable." He kicked an undead to make sure it was still, well, dead. "Speaking of which though, you're in good spirits."

"True, I am a little more than usual. I'm happy to have someone to watch my back for once, assuming you'll live longer than others."

"Excited for company then?"

"I mean, yes, but…" A possible implication dawned on her. "Don't get any ideas, Duelist!" Her scowl could easily have been mistaken for one of the undead. "I trust your skills in a fight. Your so called 'charm', it's not worth the effort."

"Hmph, so much for a positive attitude."

However, he could not deny that a certain thought or two came across his mind. She was lean, agile, and muscle where it counted. A perfect physique of one born and bred to a Ranger's life. Maybe another time.

"Back to our assigned quest." She relieved the tree root of her weight. "There's a opening in that far rock wall." Her armed stretched out towards a hidden away corner. "A stream runs from it."

"Alright, but one thing first." Stryer pulled out odd shaped and colored stones. "What do we do with these?"

"No clue, but those corrupted beaked monsters seemed to care about them plenty." Alyssa loosely notched another arrow. "Hold onto them for now. We'll worry about them after we take care of the necromancer."

"Fine." He stashed them away. "And I do have a proper name, Ranger. Though, not like you seem to care about it."

"Then give me reason to."

She moved towards the opening in the rock wall. Stryer fell in behind her, eyes and ear peeled for anymore nasty surprises. As they approached, the water became discolored and the air heavier with a defining stench. The opening led to a narrow passageway from which the tainted water ran. Death, its presence anchored within this plagued moor.

"Well, this is not foreboding at all."

"The Witches back in Oriath would feel right at home." The bow creaked from taut string. "Let's go."

Under two dead trees, branches intertwined like lovers postmortem, Alyssa and Stryer forged ahead beneath the unnatural archway. Once past, the source of the stream lay before them. The name coined by Tarkleigh was worthy, 'The Fetid Pool'.

Stryer immediately covered his nose with cloth. "Isn't this just a homely place."

"Depends on what you are." Alyssa scanned left and right as a path encircled the water. "The corruption runs deep here. Do you see anything?"

"No, the fog is too thick." they cautiously crept along the left wall. "Wait, I hear something."

A new noise indeed reached his ears. It was not the usual dripping wet of the undead, but something dry, like a rattling of bones. It was getting louder and coming fast.

"Dodge!"

Alyssa fired an arrow before following her own advice. The arrow flew true, but the monster could have cared less as the projectile bounced off its bone.

"Skeletal Rhoas? That's necromancer work if I ever saw it." Stryer drew his swords. "Heads up, more bone chargers incoming."

Four more Bone Rhoas charged at them. The two legged beasts where anything but, all bone and no skin. They were more nightmare than a flightless bird. Sword and arrow did little to damage them, but fire and ice worked like magic.

Burning arrows and blades of frost pummeled the skeletal creatures. Stryer thrust his blade at the closest one. The cold phantasm smashed into the Rhoa, breaking it before splitting into three others unfortunate to be nearby. All that remained were broken bones after a minute or two.

"I can't to see what else the bestiary has in store." He kicked a rib into the murky water. "Wonder if we'll fight a giant flesh eating crab."

"Careful what you say, as this land may give it back tenfold."

Stryer thought about a retort but was cut short by more noise. Their job was not finished, far from it. Together they worked their way along the wall and around the water. They must have killed almost thirty monsters, or so their muscles made it feel so.

Accomplishment would be one sense they felt, but left as fast as it came. Mumbling, but incoherent with a monstrous subtlety echoed around them. Their prey had noticed them and they no longer felt the predator.

Stryer crossed his blades in a defensive stance. "A late question to ask, but are you ready for this?"

Alyssa notched another arrow, suddenly realizing she was almost out. "Not that we have much of a choice anymore. But sure, why not."

"What's the worst that can happen?"

"Die and become part of its undead legion?" She winked at him. "Yea, nothing to worry about."


	7. Chapter 7: Kadavrus the Defiler

Chapter 7: Kadavrus the Defiler

The person, creature, or something in between towered over them. Billowing black robes that had seen better days encompassed the body. The head was covered by a slacked hood, and the face hidden by a decrepit mask. It's fingers were long and unnaturally sharp. In one motion, the claw like hands swung at both of them.

"Move!" Both evaded without a scratch. "Distract him!"

"Shut it!" Alyssa lined up a shot. "I've survived here longer than you!"

Her arrow flew towards the creature only to fall short. Not due to distance, but a risen Skeletal Rhoa to which the arrow harmlessly bounced off its bone head.

"It resurrected that fast?" She held back a slur of unsavory words. "This might be a problem."

"You don't say."

They fought on, striking down risen creature after creature to no avail. Flasks were already halfway empty. A few stray arrows managed to hit the necromancer but it shrugged them off like insect bites. If this kept up, they would be overwhelmed.

"I have an idea and you're the bait!" A bolt of fire smacked a rhoa square in the head.

"Great, what I always wanted."

"You said you wanted a distraction?" Her voice heavy between breathes. "Run around and circle them up. Get a nice big cluster for me around our master of death, and I'll take it from there."

Stryer had doubts, but she had proven herself so far. Pitted against immortal death, he downed a portion of the QuickSilver flask and ran hard. The necromancer was content to watch its prey be chased with sick amusement. As little kids in a playbox, the skeletal rhoas charged at Stryer.

What the hell was Alyssa doing?

Then he saw it. Arrows, green hue arrows rained down relentlessly. Further back he saw Alyssa as she marched her shots into the air. One arrow became many, and master and minions recoiled in pain.

"Every three volleys you've got an opening, use it!"

The arrows halted, giving Stryer a chance to pounce on his stunned foes. He wasted no time. Charging in, frosted blades stung deep into undead skin and bone. One more volley, one more dash, and one final cry of anguish. The job was done.

Both of them stood like vultures overlooking their prize. The necromancer lay in a crumpled mess with lifeless bones scattered around. Alyssa put forth a sly smirk.

"What's got you gleeful?"

"Nothing important really, just satisfaction of culling the corruption and the thrill of a tough fight." Her eyes beamed with pride. "What about you, Stryer? Missing the Oriathan arenas yet?"

The Grand Arena was always home to spectacles to behold. Gladiators and Duelists gave it all on the arena floor in blood, sweat, and often their lives. But Wraeclast offered a chance to prove oneself beyond doubt and reach new ends, ascend if one will.

Stryer laughed at the idea. A duelist like himself had aspirations a many, but….did she just use his name over title?

"I do miss it, true." He sheathed his swords and noticed a duller pair of eyes than before. "But this land provides it's own challenges all the same." He pointed at the carcass. "More than that, I think I miss the maidens and their adoration."

"Hmm, I'm sure there were a few less pure maidens as the nights went on."

How could one rebuke the truth? "That's not, wrong, entirely."

For the first time he heard her genuinely laugh. "Alright Duelist, time to go claim our prize."

* * *

 _Lioneye's Watch_

Their eyes met only for a brief moment before the Karui turned away. He was a monster amongst men, a living one though. His tattooed body darkened and muscular, with biceps thicker than Alyssa's neck. In his hands he carried a large tribal maul. Most likely a joke by the Blackguards, yet they failed to realize how truly deadly it could be in capable hands.

"When did the muscle get here?"

"Not long after you left." Tarkleigh stopped his house cleaning. "It's a rare occurence to see a Karui for me. Majority of the time, the Templar Order deem it fit to kill them where they stand. For good reason after seeing his strength with my own eyes."

Steyer's curiosity was peaked. "And when did you see it?"

"He felled Hillock."

Tarkleigh's face was void of emotion as he spoke. Monotone, he meant it as it was said. Stryer and Alyssa shared a mutual exchange.

"Felled? How?"

"A large club to the face, repeatedly." Disbelief of reality accompanied his words.

Stryer on the other hand felt a surge he could not hold back. "I stuck bloody sword through its head!"

Alyssa giggled. "Apparently it took a more blunt approach, similar to how I have to be with you."

Wraeclast, land of the undead and now this. He really missed the fair maidens of Oriath right now.

The Karui had moved on to Nessa, engaging her in heavy dialogue. Others of the camp seemed to be a little more lively than usual. The medicine chest had worked wonders in the capable hands of Nessa, or as much as one could hope in this remote watch. Stryer caught Alyssa linger a glance at the sinewed figure before remembering something.

"That's right, there was another topic of discussion." She nodded at him. "We can worry about your shortcomings later, show him the stones."

"Stones?" Stryer forgot he carried them. "Oh yeah, here they are."

Tarkleigh inspected all three, weighing them in hand and running his fingers over the grooves. "I've seen this before."

"Really? Where?"

"I was running down a wounded rhoa one night's eve and came across a watery cave. These glyphs were engraved on the wall, as if to be socketed." He handed them back to Stryer. "If you're going to do something with that cave, I should warn you to be wary."

"There's something worse than Oozeback or Hailrake?"

"When I glimpsed into the cave that night, there was something behind the mists of the falls. Looked a bit like one of those sand spitters, but the size of a bloody ox." Tarleigh laughed but it felt empty. "I reckon it'll be nesting down in the flooded depths, somewhere below that submerged tunnel. Probably will get hungry and come looking for you."

"This land is ever bountiful in offering ways to die."

Alyssa nudged him. "If you're not too careful, that Karui will take the kill from you like he did with Hillock."

With that, there conversation ended for the day. Stryer and Alyssa conceded that examining the wall would be their next task. According to Tarkleigh, the forest inland brought with it promise of fresh game, fruits, and berries. The residents of Lioneye's Watch aside, they could use the food just as much if they were to survive here. It was a mutual reliance everyone shared.


	8. Chapter 8: Rested & Restocked

So the first two uniques have been introduced. Depending on what they are and how they come into play will determine if I actually call them by their name as I don't want to break story immersion for the sole sake of naming an item. So mainly I will try to describe the unique as it's supposed to look and mention the official names in the notes here in case you don't pick up on it. Alyssa got the unique, Briskwrap. Stryer got the unique The Deep One's Hide.

Also, I can't promise I'll update frequently (Other writing projects and life itself). However it is my intent to get through at minimum the whole 10 acts (gonna be a shit ton of words) of the game. It may take me a few years in total due to my other projects but by golly I'm going to do it. Thank you to any who stick along for the ride, my appreciation is endless. Until next time, cya!

Chapter 8: Rested & Restocked

For one of the few nights since he arrived, the rain and storm ceased. In its absence was a calm. Tarkleigh would set them right before they left tomorrow and make sure they did not die too easily. Another quest, a plea from those surviving inside the watch. Stryer did not mind it as much anymore as he was one of them now. He was also finding another view more enjoyable. When Alyssa removed her jerkin to clean, he saw how her sleeveless white shirt clung to each curve. There was a stirring not only of pure lust. With those thoughts he slept a peaceful night into next morning, the rain and storm lessened.

"While you've been off cleansing the shoreline, I've done as promised." Tarkleigh beamed in pride. "Almost got burnt by Firefury in the process. But for what you two have done, worth it."

"Firefury?" Stryer racked his brain to remember prior mention. "How the hell did we miss her?"

"Dumb luck or divine blessing from the gods." Tarkleigh sarcastically hypothesized. "Normally she lets others do the dirty work for her. I guess killing off her followers got her worked up and on the prowl."

"Good to know so we can avoid."

"I don't blame you for staying alive, but we're not you." He glazed over the other injured and malnourished in the watch. "If you could rid the coast of her it would reprieve us a great deal."

Stryer and Alyssa exchange an all too accustomed look. If their path advanced as it had been, then they would indeed find Firefury whether of want or not. Concern hung in the air.

"Death would also be a great pain to us." Stryer knew his conscious only had one answer. "But, if within our reach then consider it done."

"Many thanks, and maybe luck will be on your side still. That Karui seemed determined to forge ahead. He might take care of the problem for all of us."

Alyssa smirked. "He seemed capable enough."

"And I'm not?" Stryer exasperated. "Tarkleigh, just show us what you got."

"Fair enough, to your gear we go." He moved to a pole against the crumbling stone wall. "Since you got a longer journey on hand, I've got you the good stuff or what counts for it."

To Alyssa, she donned new goathide boots and gloves and a leather hood. Her weaponry was upgraded from a shortbow to a sturdier longbow. Additionally she received a chest piece of strapped leather tightly wrapped around the sides multiple times. Leather padding covered her front and back and were covered in a thing layer of golden hue.

To Stryer, Ironscale boots and gauntlets with a sallet and light brigandine chest armor were his. It was a step up from the scale vest he had been wearing. His two swords traded in for a crude but heavier hitting boarding axe, the wood handle felt natural in his fingers. Secondly, Tarkleigh had his health in mind and gave him a shield. The best way to describe it would be the hide of a large crab from the deep, cured, strengthened, and fitted with straps for use in combat.

"I feel safer already."

"You should, especially with that shield and strapped leather." Tarkleigh chuckled. "A while back, a non exile shipwrecked nearby and found his way to our lovely home. Those two pieces were his and I know good craftsmanship when I see it."

They did feel a little better off.

"Good to know we have an expert scavenger on our side." Alyssa admired the golden overlay design. "Curious as to the fate of the prior owner, or is this a better left unsaid?"

Tarkleigh's face scrunched as he brought a hand to his chin. "Poison of some kind if I had to guess. He found his own way inland, into the forest and such. Something was off when he came back."

"Careful what fruit you eat maybe." Stryer strapped his axe onto his leather belt. "It's time to go."

They left Lioneye's Watch and trudged along the coast back towards the mudflats. The cannibals were active, scouring the landscape for their next victim. Tarkleigh was right on the mark that they had pissed off the locals as wild men and women scurried across the sand. Patience and skill, they evaded most hazards. Needless to say there were some unavoidable encounters. The fresh coat on the axe looked natural, a weapon filling its purpose. Even more reliable was the animal shell looking shield. Alyssa also became rather fond of her bow and leather.

Barely onset of their journey was a familiar face. The Karui from earlier, armed with a large two handed club and fierce rage. Opposite of him was the one called FireFury with glowing tattoos of burning ember. The Karui was breathing heavy, but FireFury was heavier and more frantic. She called down storms of fire from the sky as the Karui stayed on the move to avoid. It was only a matter of time before he closed the gap and rid it of her followers.

"Shouldn't we step in and help?" Alyssa had an arrow notched at the ready. "Are we really going to sit here and let him die?"

They hunkered down behind a large rock at the cliff's edge. "I will not be one to cheat a man from honor and glory."

"Glory? This is not the arenas of Oriath, Duelist!"

"No, no it's not." Stryer held a hand up for silence. "But does that mean this isn't an arena of its own? It's greater than Oriath and more pure, an honest fight to live or die."

She bit back her outburst and tempted fate of the Karui.

His prowess unrelented, he swung and cleared the last stragglers between him and FireFury who matched him rage for rage. She channeled another firestorm to which the Karui to which he dodged and charged forward. FireFury was flat footed, but she continued to call down more fire. In desperation, she called a storm upon herself and the closing Karui. The Karui did not falter and burned himself as he charged forward. The last firestorm had been called. Burned, ragged breathe, and soaked in sweat, the Karui's maul bashed FireFury's head and cracked her skull. The body crumpled to the ground limp. The Karui gave her mercy and extinguished the life that remained.

"Damn, I didn't think I could predict the future." She relaxed her bow. "You just got some competition, hopefully friendly."

Stryer could not help but smile. "I think I'm okay with him stealing a kill or two. He's a survivor and earned that one."


	9. Chapter 9: Passages and Ledges

Chapter 9: Submerged Passages and Narrow Ledges

After witnessing the end of FireFury's life, Stryer and Alyssa retraced their path into the Mud Flats and found the wall mentioned by Tarkleigh. He had also mentioned something else about waypoints and was surprised that they were walking the long way back. What did he call it? A piece of locomancy? The idea was it could teleport one to another waypoint like the once in Lioneye's Watch that stood overwatch against the tidal waves, the stairs were a nice addition by Tarkleigh himself. Stryer had seen it but preferred not to throw up his insides just yet.

"Now that I see it it's obvious. I guess my question is why were those stones in the rhoa nests?"

"The dumb birds like colored items, maybe, or they were bored." Stryer pulled out the three glyphs from a waist pouch. "Let's match them up and see what happens."

He put the stones into the wall of glyphs. The wall was a rainbow of colors as if the natives revered it as a holy site. The last glyph went into its slot as they stepped back at the ready, hands hovered on their weapons.

At first, nothing happened, then came a rushing of water echoing off the walls. The deep pool of water blocking their way into the cavern receded dramatically. Somehow the glyphs opened a reservoir for the water to flow to. Stryer was not even about to start figuring out the magic behind what happened, there were enough other worries. With the water level down there was now access into the formerly submerged passage.

Stryer gave the tunnel a good look before turning to Alyssa. "Ladies first?"

"Says the one with the shield, fine."

She quickly moved forward into the unknown. Despite her longer time on Wraeclast, she had not ventured beyond the Mud Flats. Doing so inherited higher risks and a rhoa made a decent meal if cooked correctly. Plus there were the inhabitants of the Watch to defend. Few stout warriors were available, a point she had reiterated to Stryer when they first met.

The first steps inside and they could see a network of weaving corridors, walls reflected a blue hue as water polished every visible surface. A careful foot was welcome as one slip on the narrow bridges meant a fall into the water of unknown depth and residences. They trudged on into the eerie glow.

Oversized land squids and more crustaceans crossed their path. They left many a severed tentacle and broken shell in their wake. The larger crab that Tarkleigh had warned them about was nowhere to be seen, at least not on this level. They crossed an ominous hole at the end of a wayward tunnel. Alyssa bet the prey resided in the deep ends of wherever it leads, and that was good enough for Stryer. They bypassed it and continued through the passages into fresher air.

"You felt that?" Alyssa perked up as they rounded what looked like the last corner. Light up ahead emitted from an opening. "I also smell the ocean."

"Same, and I swear I hear those damn seagulls."

They encroached the opening and were happy to find that the confines of the passages were now behind them. A long, narrow, and winding ledge ran along the side of the mountain. A flock of seagulls scattered upon their intrusion.

"So how much longer until this emperors road?"

"Don't get too excited, we still got a while." She adjusted her quiver, running fingers over the feathered ends. It was one of a few habits Stryer had noticed. "Through this ledge and then up a short climb which gets us to the prison, Axiom Prison. From there, it's basically next door."

"Anything of note that we should worry about?"

"Yea, not dying."

They encountered more cannibals and for the first time some skeletons. Some of the fleshless warriors were adorned with armor from when they lived, but the majority of the equipment was crude at best. Maintenance of weapons did not concern the undead. They forged on, eliminating the stranglers that crossed their path. If exile was the least of their worries, Stryer would have loved to rest and take in the view of the waters below them. Even a cursed land held an alluring beauty.

Everything had gone as planned so far. That was until a particular bend and following open area. The middle area rose into a small hill. It was what stood on top of the hill that warranted a moment of pause. A large wooden statue with intricate carvings on all sides towered like a lookout. Upon closer inspection, a few of the markings were in the shape of odd faces painted teal. The entire length of the totem was a blood red.

"That looks enticing." Stryer then gave Alyssa a once over. "You may have some competition yourself."

"Look me over like that one more time and you get an arrow to your crotch."

"Fine." Stryer stepped out from cover. "Let's take a closer look."

No sooner had he taken a few steps then the totem shook. At the base, an electrical charge built up and then scattered into moving sparks. They spread on the ground as fire to oil. He immediately fell back into cover.

"Well, that was shocking."

"Yea? Why don't you try?"

Alyssa smirked. "I'd like a shoulder massage once a day in payment."

She sidestepped to gain a better line of sight but stayed behind the rock. With an arrow notched, the string was pulled taut and target lined up. She released and repeated until the totem splintered in fury to nothing.

"The nice thing about sticks of wood is that they can't move." Alyssa admired her work a moment before moving on. "Come on, too much ground to cover if we dawdle."

Stryer groaned but followed. They navigated the rest of the ledge with little hassle. Once at the end, a shabby stone arch indicated their initial ascent up the climb. Here the land rose like dirt steps for giants, terraces overlooking the slopes. After breaking for food, they began their upward climb towards Axiom Prison and beyond.


	10. Chapter 10: Axiom Prison

So I wanted to devote a full chapter to Chatters and Sawbones, hence cutting this one where I did. Also, there will be a full chapter for Brutus of course. I'm going to do a "recap" for Prisoner's gate and Ship graveyard. I love Fairgraves as a character but I want to leave some of these areas/bosses "untouched" for other exiles. The simple reason being you are not the only one exiled to this continent, and you aren't the hero that does everything and saves everyone. TLDR, this isn't a video game where you are the only one to do all the quests.

So anyway, Fairgraves will be mentioned in the recap (will go into more detail in with him in Sarn) but otherwise we'll move onward to Merveil and finish out Act 1. Also, as the game changes with updates, I need to keep those in mind. For example, the original Forsaken Masters are now part of the Immortal Syndicate. So I'll have them come up in a conversation once or twice. Also, I know 4.0 is being hinted at doing some major lore rework/changes for Part 2 of the game as far as I can tell. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that if I do leave something out in my narrative, then it doesn't mean it doesn't exist my story's world. This is the view of one exile out of many that have come to Wraeclast. I'll try to keep it in line with the game along with any major changes. But say if, for example, Jun never comes up in my story. Then that means she just recruited another exile.

All that being said, thank you all who have read this story and enjoyed it. I know I'm not Speedy Gonzales with the updates and I'm a slow writer, can't help it. Until next upload, have a fun and awesome day.

~Augustrad

 **Chapter 10: Axiom Prison**

The steep climb lay behind them as did a new acquaintance, Navali, a self-proclaimed soothsayer. She was Karui with minimal fur clothing and a peculiar monkey. A hue of violet imbued itself around her. After freeing her from the imprisonment of goatmen, she used the waypoint near the base of the climb to return to Lioneye's.

Oh yea, goatmen. Demon goats on two legs like a human. Some of them even wielded staves and shot fireballs. If not for his shield, Stryer would have probably more than just a few minor burn marks. Alyssa used her distance and whittled the enemies down. They did not make a bad team, rather decent actually.

Before them stood an entrance to Axiom Prison, a crumbled hole in the wall. Skeletons trapped in metal cages hung along the walls and on spiked wheels, deadly warnings to the living. The stone walls stood resolute as if time had no effect.

"I took the first dark hole, why don't you take this one?"

Stryer turned to retort but halted to better judgment. "Fair enough."

Cautiously, they went in one by one. The air, if one would call it such, that greeted them was stale and lingered of horrid stench. Their footsteps echoed down the almost pitch black stone corridor. Almost pitch black, almost except for the occasional lit torch or brazier along the wall or at a cross-section. The chill ran from head to toe and skin to bone.

"Isn't this quite the cozy place?"

Stryer and Alyssa moved along ready to strike at every encroachment of darkness. Iron maidens and metal cages were occasionally shoved in a corner with tables or chairs splintered on the floor. One room made use of raised stone in a rectangular layout. Four cages with chained skeletons inside acted as the outer of entertainment for their torturers, a most likely slow and painful death.

As disturbing an image all that was, they were more welcoming than the ones outside the cages that attacked them. They played it safe and made sure to not overextend one more corner than needed. Without too much trouble they made it to a stairwell that led upwards and also the slightest hint of fresher air. With no other option, up the echoing stone stairs to the next level.

"I, for one, am looking forward to whatever monster awaits us outside this prison." Stryer whispered as he dared a look around the next wall.

"Why would that be?"

He grinned. "Because that means we're no longer stuck in here."

"I wish I could imitate you only for the sake of your blinding optimism." Alyssa could not resist a smile. "Though, the other...hold on, check out that door."

The nearest door was of solid wood rather than iron bars. The metal bracing detailed a level of care and importance, of someone, not a prisoner. The coast clear, they approached the door and slowly opened and entered the room. Inside there were no cages or other means of torture. Surprised, it was actually the opposite.

A large table that could sit at least sixteen hoarded the majority of the room. Across it lay a tattered and bug-eaten cloth that spread its length while assorted dishes accompanied each seating. A chair crafted to impress stood at the head of the table, the high back signaled importance. An array of colorful tapestries hung against the walls

"This is certainly one of the nicer rooms."

Alyssa ran a hand lightly across the surface as she moved along the table. "You think the Warden entertained guests here?"

Stryer inspected one of the remains in the nearest chair only to find cobwebs and dust covered a pile of broken bones. An assortment of silverware scattered the table, but one, in particular, garnered keen interest. At the head was rather large cutlery, a meat cleaver coated in dried blood was gutted into the wood.

Alyssa laid her bow on the table and pushed the skeleton off of the head chair. "Assume this was his spot."

"Probably shouldn't be so reckless like that."

"Relax, it would have moved if it was alive." She paused and realized her wording. "Or undead."

He scoffed. "We shouldn't stay."

"I wonder what he'd say, the warden?" She took the now vacated seat and dislodged the bloody cleaver. "Bring me fresh meat!"

Stryer sighed in pain. "Since when did you get a sense of humor?"

Before she could lay the cleaver down, a subtle chill swept the room. The feeling was familiar to Stryer but he could not place it. Alyssa snatched her bow with no hesitation while he gripped shield and sword tightly in hand. They both felt it and heard it, a slow but encroaching shuffle of feet, a single pair. The cold emanated from an open door opposite the side they entered.

Slowly and sluggishly into the room a larger than normal skeleton intruded. Its bones glistened as if coated in a thin layer of ice and moved with a chattering effect. A kite shield and war hammer were its choice of weapons. Eyeless sockets gazed back at the both of them, extra cold and lifeless.

"Go for it, Stryer." She pulled the string taut. "I got you covered."

The arrow burned hot as it flew towards its target. However, the new enemy raised its shield and deflected it away. Now, as far as he knew, skeletons could not speak. They were dead for one reason, but also there was a noticeable lack of organs to make a sound. All the other skeletons were silent except for their noisy movements. This one growled, growled in an icy rage.

"Alright, Chatters, let's see what you got."

Stryer charged in with shield held high. Also unlike most skeletons, this one was deceptively faster once engaged in combat. Its hammer swung at Stryer in an attempt to knock the shield aside. Successful, it thrust its own shield forward to bash Stryer in the head. He dodged back as another arrow hit Chatters in the torso. The skeleton stumbled backward and released another undead roar, all the while, the chill surrounding it increased in intensity. Next thing he saw, a glacial hammer aimed over his head to squash him like a bug.


	11. Chapter 11: Chatters, Piety, and Warden

Alright, feels good to be back! I was busy with military training and finishing up my Starcraft Fanfic, which I finally did, so sorry for the long delay. Man, I've got some catching up to do considering Exilecon and the PoE2/4.0 announcement. I'll try to get back on track as much as I can but no promises as life is life. I'm still trying to keep each chapter more short and focused rather than long winded and too much of an info dump, as I feel I'm able to capture certain aspects by doing this. As always, huge thank you to anyone who still keeps coming back to this. :) :) :)

~Augustrad

 **Chapter 11: Chatters, Piety, the Warden. Oh My!**

"For being so dead, this skeleton seem to make an unusual amount of noise." Stryer shoved a chair in Chatters' path. "Does it have undead lungs as well?"

"Less talk, more slash."

Chatters kicked the chair as if it was a small stone and it splintered into multiple pieces. One of the legs flew a good distance and bounced off another lesser skeleton's shield, then Alyssa's arrow quickly pierced through and shattered the skull. The fragments only added to a trail of many broken and fractured bones that covered many spots on the floor. They had created a trail of bone from room to room. The ice empowered skeleton, forever known as Chatters in their minds, was relentless in pursuit and tougher than any other skelton they had come across so far.

This one did not know when to give the hell up.

"You think enough hits and it would tire eventually" Stryer's axe struck the 'I'm shape scar on the shield it carried. "Would help."

"Maybe a better sized strike, but what do I know?"

Stryer dared a glance back to barely see a smirk on Alyssa's face, the limited light presenting a more sinister than normal appearance. Oh how he missed the colors and faces of Oriath in contrast to this bleak prison. The rust of Wraeclast was sinking into his skin, most likely for worse.

Stryer dodged a chilled hammer, the glacier like ice that formed around the head of the weapon shattered upon impact with the stone floor. There was a shiny red gem socketed in the hilt of the weapon. The lesser skeleton following had been whittled down to a few stranglers at most. Alyssa had proved her aim true and fire stronger. Stryer made a mental note should they survive Wraeclast, she would thrive in the Arena.

Another swipe of an ice hammer returned his focus to where it should be. Despite the monster's resilience, Chatters showed small signs of sluggishness.

Stryer grimaced. "Might as well test out that new gem."

A chest long forgotten can hide many a thing. However, in Wraeclast it also meant it could hold a gem of hellish creation since misplaced at one point in time. Stryer's axe now sported a second green gem. A spark of electricity channeled within him and into the rusty blade of his axe. He swung, intuition taking over subconsciously. His rusty axe made contact with the scar shield for what felt like the hundredth time.

Alyssa cursed but exactly what she said Stryer could care less. A spike of blue lightning exploded from the axe blade as if called from the storming skies, and tendrils burst outward to break the remaining skeletons in the room least one. The strike of lightning caused Chatters to shudder and pause. Stryer stood in his own shock, the tingling sensation reverberated throughout his body. He could work with this.

"Stryer, alternate hits!" Alyssa let loose a fire arrow into the staggered Chatters. "Keep it on heels."

"Yea, I like th-"

Runic circles accompanied by a chilling frost spammed the ground around him. Second nature and quick reflexes took over as Stryer lunged away, with only flakes of clinging ice around his foot. The inanimate skeleton within the torture cage rattled from Stryer's impact.

"Aw hell."

Alyssa continued her barrage where she could without hitting Stryer, while Stryer charged in again. Half of a table had been upheaved from a runic ice blast. Chatters moved in closer more menacing than ever, and closer was better. Stryer jumped on a torture cage knocked to the floor as empty eye sockets followed his movements. Pushing off the cage, Stryer leaped upon Chatters with another electrical charge pulsating within his axe.

The shield only blocked so much.

Chatters bony shoulder caved in as it went to one knee with another horrifying scream. The scream was promptly silenced with a flaming bolt into its open mouth, a final pose in undead death. Stryer overlooked the immobilized skeleton under heavy breathe. Alyssa took a rest against a jutting stone.

"I think...it's dead...ish."

"Yea, good. I'm basically out of arrows."

Stryer stepped away from Chatters and joined her. "This is going to be a bit more of a challenge than I thought."

"Oh, the Duelist wanting to turn back?"

Stryer's glare could kill an undead skeleton on the spot. "You think I've ever backed down from a challenge? Why do you think I was exiled to Wraeclast?"

Distant but closing bone against stone and metal held Alyssa's remark. A sip of the flask and they were on the move again, the dead biting at their heels. They encountered more cells and torture chambers than either wished to see in their lifetime. Two levels and stairs upwards, there was a change of atmosphere.

It still felt like a prison from the depths of damnation. However, the array of torture devices were nonexistent. An aggravated flipping of pages echoed from up ahead. They exchanged looks and readied weapons. The female in red and gold was the last thing on the list of expectations.

They passed through one doorway and a raised and barred dais of sorts was on their left. Books, an overturned end table, and the woman appeared behind the cage. Her red cloth and gold armor palette was that of the Oriathan Blackguard. Not that Stryer or Alyssa were perfectly quiet, but her hearing was not dulled inside the walls of Axiom. Her hand stopped mid page turn.

She first turned to Stryer. "I'd recognize that posture anywhere, Duelist. I've seen much of it in the Grand Arena." She tilted towards Alyssa. "And you, my dear Ranger, a familiar face as well. I've heard of the prowess and your eyes do not falter from reputation. Keep that fire alive as long as you can."

Alyssa's bow string pulled taut. "And you are?"

"I'd say but your death awaits. Go and welcome the Warden for me, he eagerly awaits you."

Alyssa's arrow threaded the iron bars and pierced the rearing flames of where once the woman in red stood, harmlessly bouncing off the wall behind. Stryer knew of the old gods and their inhuman powers now all but fairy tales. That disappearing act send shivers down his spine more so than the walking ice skeleton. There was a touch of something, a corruption of some kind.

Following the path, they came back around to the other side of the dais and steps to enter. Nothing was out of place considering the stare of the rest of the prison minus the bookstand. For everything else that had been knocked and thrown about, the bookstand testified in defiance of the common theme. The pages of the open book were stained with time and blood.

Stryer read with a steady hand, _"Still the Karui barbarians advance upon us. Lioneye is dead, his legion slaughtered, along with every Eternal from Lioneye's Watch to the foot of our Axiom...Yet our salvation is at hand. Foul times demand heroic deeds and through my arts our Lord Brutus, our mighty Warden, will arise anew to defend us_." His steady hand returned to the comfort of a weapon's grip.

"I'm surprised you can read, but I guess you'd need to with those love letters back home."

"Quite." He paused. Were nerves starting to get the better of him? "I'm no scholar of history though, yet I understood enough to be wary of this Warden."

Alyssa rarely missed her mark. "A Duelist afraid of a challenger? What ominous foreboding is it not?"

"Can you…" He stopped and gandered at her.

"What?"

"Sorry, I assumed you had a basic understanding of language."

The fire rekindled in her eyes. "Don't assume we were all born of privilege. Life gives and takes, and not equally."

From that point on, assumptions were kept to a minimum and himself. For now, they kept on a continuation of the path through what looked like more storage rooms with barrels stacked and pushed into every corner. Most of them were rotted out far beyond use.

Not much farther along, the door to the Warden's chamber was before them. It looked like any other door in this infernal place. But it was what lay before the door that piqued interest. A dead body, more freshly dead than the ones seen to this point, and it belonged to the Ebony Legion.

"Well, you still confident?"

Alyssa poked the body inspectionately with her bow. "To best the Legion isn't the accomplishment one may think. Concerned, but not shaken."

Stryer gazed into the darkened room behind the bars. A faint hint of movement emitted from somewhere within, something Hillock size.

"Then forward it is." Stryer grasped the door. "At worst, death is looking more and more exciting."


	12. Chapter 12: Brutus, Lord Incarcerator

Author note: So yea, I didn't go super in depth with the fight. Could argue I really didn't go into much depth at all with the fight as to what I could have done. But being what this game is, a sandbox hack and slash ARPG, I'd rather set up a fight and give juuuuuuuust enough info to spark the reader's imagination on how they would mold the sandbox to their ends. I'd rather focus on the characters more than the fights. Fights will happen, its a hack and slash game after all. However, I want to add my personal touch of character and, well, personality to the story. So feel free to comment and review and other stuff. Until next installment, thanks for stopping by :)

 **Chapter 12: Brutus, Lord Incarcerator**

The sequence of events that occurred once they stepped inside the room were but a cohesive blur. A few steps in, the door behind them swung shut and locked itself. Then there was the distorted voice which sounded all too happy to greet them, like a butcher overly engrossed in his work. A chain hook barely missing between them forced a split. Catching a quick glimpse, Stryer now understood the injuries of the dead body just outside the door. But no sooner did he make that connection than did he have to move again to avoid impalement from spikes hidden in the floor.

The Warden, Brutus, stood a giant of a man like Hillock on the beach. However, Brutus was more monster than man unlike Hillock. Cauterized stumps wrapped in long chain were all that was left where hands should have been. Scarred yet bulging muscles were spotted with bone and metal along his arms, a large chain hook contraption attached to his left. All in all, a scary man this warden presented himself as.

' _Your crime is trespass. Your sentence is death!_ '

From those uttered and barely understandable words did their current chaos ensue. Alyssa moved further towards her side of the room while avoiding any further floor spikes possible. Stryer bore the unfortunate luck to garner the Warden's attention and an upheaval of ground, a result of a heavy ground slam from Brutus. Stryer avoided the oncoming wave but let his guard down. The wary chain hook caught his leg and pulled him in. Hands grasped madly for any edge but to no avail. The chain pulled, and pulled hard. Next thing he knew was the floor above his head and an ugly face looking down at him.

"Alyssa, doing your Ranger stuff would be nice!"

Three arrows impaled the Warden's shoulder. "I thought you were used to an arena, Duelist."

"Not one like this." Stryer swung his axe and landed a blow to the cauterized hand. Brutus did not take the pincer of pain kindly, but the jarring movements helped to free Stryer from the catch of the hook and greeted the ground quickly. "Ah, how I've missed you sturdy stone."

Stryer hobbled with haste out of melee range and none too soon. Brutus raged and repeatedly pounded the ground in the hopes of landing a killing blow. The cut to Stryer's leg could have been worse, but his mobility had taken a hit unless he could down a sip or two of his flask. Alyssa kept the barrage of arrows coming in a methodical pace. Her quiver stock was running low. A moment to rest was buried as brutus charged forward in his furious rage towards Stryer. Brutus crashed into the stone wall, dust and stone shifted to their own.

"This guy has more stamina than I'd like." Stryer took a much needed swig. "Damn, it's like Hillock all over again."

Alyssa had jumped up on a small platform piled with broken furniture and machines to avoid any more nasty spikes. "Need you to at least land one-uh...we have a problem!"

She looked up at the ceiling to see the source of the ratling echo that had grown louder in the last minute. A multitude of cages hung along the ceiling of the chamber, and each cage held a very alive skeleton. The skeletons were also armed to the teeth with axe, sword, and a small few with bow and arrow. As if on cue, Brutus stomped the ground over and over. The cages swung back and forth, the chain holding them strained to breaking point.

"Duelist, watch out above!"

The chains broke and the cages fell. Metal broke and the lively dead inhabitants crawled out from the wrecked cages. A myriad of empty eye sockets shambled towards Alyssa while Brutus refocused his efforts on Stryer, much to his chagrin. If hell ever manifested on a battlefield then this was it. Stryer fought and maneuvered between skeleton, then the malformed Brutus, and back to another skeleton. Chilled and electrified metal crackled and sparked against weapon and bone. Stryer pulled out all his best moves that he learned from the arena to stay alive.

One skeleton down, then another, and a slash or two across the leg of Brutus. Sweat, bone, and blood had never had a more literal meaning than now. Stryer caught a glimpse of Alyssa dealing with her own share of undead by bow and dagger. A glimpse was all he got. With most of the skeletons gone, Brutus came with unrelenting aggression. If Stryer survived this, his shield would have a few more splinters thanks to the scarred stumps that struck it.

"To hell with this, I'm not getting any younger." An electrical charge tingled across his fingertips. "Might just go all out. If it fails, well, I'm dead either way."

Brutus swung with his hooked hand. Stryer aimed to deflect it off his shield, the axe prepped for a counterstrike. His shoulder felt like caving in yet another time as stump met shield. Stryer unhinged his axe and hacked away at the extended arm. Lightning pulsed and released from the axe upon every hit. Brutus reared in pain. Stryer pushed his assault. Alyssa knocked off skeletal heads with her bow as if it was a club.

* * *

The chaos subsided. Heavy breathing from two bodies resting on a short series of steps, as their eyes surveyed the aftermath. Alyssa was fresh out of arrows and Stryer was pretty sure his axe was cracked beyond repair. A fresh carcass of the brute once called Brutus lay on the ground and slouched against the far wall, dozens of new lacerations appeared all over.

As Stryer sat on the steps and observed Alyssa fiddling with a skull in amusement, the words of a dead man came back to mind. The poor fellow that he washed up next to on the beach. What did he say? This was Wraeclast, home to creatures of your darkest nightmares? So far, Wraeclast has shown to live up to its reputation.

"It may not seem like the right time, but may I ask why you're here?" Stryer tossed what remained of his axe into the scattered pile of bones near his feet. "I mean, what got you exiled?"

"I know what you mean."

They sat in silence for what seemed to never end. Alyssa kept staring into the eye sockets of the skull like it was an escapable void, lost truths hidden just beneath the blackness. But those answers never came and she tossed it aside with the rest of its kin.

"Pettiness and pride are some of the worst sins of humanity, at least that's what I thought before arriving in this land."

The irony was he thrived on pride and pettiness of others within the arena, a cause of their mistakes and faults. "They are each intolerable in their own right."

"It was a Noble, and an err of bluntness for my part." She flashed a crooked smile. "He took offense to the arrow I firmly placed into his shoulder. By all rights, he should have had two or three more for what he suggested."

"I've dealt with my share of assholes." Stryer humored his own smile at the thought.

Alyssa shuddered and then as if reset herself, stood up and slung the bow over her shoulder. "Let's find one of those damn runic stones and get back to Lioneye's Watch. Get food in my belly, and yea, you got yourself a story."


End file.
